Unwilling Taste Testers
by R4v3n Kn1ght
Summary: After Harry freed Dobby, the Malfoys learn what it means to be house elf-less, and the dangers of doing their own cooking...


**Author's Note:** Again, the idea comes from late discussions with Artemis Arcturus, while one of us failed to get the consistency right in a batch of cookies, and had several people try the horrible things. This is humor, and not to be taken seriously! I do not own Harry Potter, or any recognizable characters, locations, etc. They all belong to JK Rowling.

**Unwilling Taste Testers**

When a wizarding family has been accustomed to having almost all menial tasks done by a house elf, like the Malfoy family, and then life turns around and that family finds itself without a house elf…things get a little rough.

Lucius Malfoy sat rigidly in his large wingback armchair in front of the roaring fireplace. His grey eyes were dull, his posture slouched, and one arm hung over the arm of the chair lazily. If it weren't for his breathing, it would have seemed like he were dead, and rigor mortis had set in.

A thin dog came slowly over to Lucius Malfoy's limp hand. It was one of the only creatures in the entire house that hadn't suffered the man's rage that night, but why it still decided to approach its master…only Merlin's ghost knows! The tongue of the dog licked the salt from Lucius's hand. Like it was thawing with the dog's licks, the fingers began to move, until they stroked the dog's head slowly, therapeutically.

Lucius stared into the fire for several more minutes, before he finally spoke. His voice was raw from all of the screaming he'd done in the last several hours. "You know," he musingly began. "I'm starting to understand why my LORD wants that Potter boy killed so desperately."

The dog jerked away from Lucius's hand and looked up at him like it was asking a question. Lucius looked down at the skinny dog.

"If it weren't for that…boy…I would not be sitting here, in my home, dreading what my wife comes to me with. Do you know what she did last night? Of course, you don't, you silly dog. How could you!"

The dog glared at Lucius as though it were offended.

Lucius resumed looking at the fireplace as he continued. "She attempted to cook." The dog sneezed. Lucius looked down at the dog. "Ah, yes, you must have been in the kitchen when she spilled the entire spice rack then." The dog sneezed again. "I know…" He reached down again and began scratching the dog behind the ears.

"It's all because of Potter that this happened." The dog's tongue drooped out of its mouth as it relaxed from the scratching, listening to the scratchy, now roughened voice of its master. "He had to go and give my servant a sock! He just had to take the opportunity to further frustrate my life! And now! My house is in a state of anarchy all because the servant my family has had for – Merlin knows how long – since wizards came about has been freed by…" Lucius sighed. Then, he raised his wand and summoned the decanter of brandy to his hand not occupied by scratching the dog's ears. He unstopped the decanter magically and did not even bother to pour the liquid into a glass. He took a large gulp from the decanter itself, before mumbling with a sneer, "a sock."

Just as he was taking another hefty gulp of brandy, his young son shuffled into the room, looking as miserable as his father. "Father," the boy said, hesitantly. Lucius lowered the decanter and looked at Draco, his son. "Is there any way that we can tell mother nicely that her cooking is terrible? I can't eat anymore of it."

Lucius looked at Draco, feeling almost sorry for the boy. "With Potter—"

"Saint Potter!" Draco spat disgustedly.

"—giving that Dobby a sock, your mother is determined to do all of the cooking for us. Merlin knows why! I tried telling her we could indefinitely order out from…anywhere!" He took another swig, grimacing as the drink burned its way down his throat. "I'm sorry you have to suffer your mother's cooking, Draco, but…you understand. I will not be the only one subjected to this."

The dog at his side whimpered. Lucius looked down at the dog. "Even Death won't stand for it, Draco." The dog whimpered again.

"I'll be right back, father," Draco said as he left the room.

Lucius stared again into the fire for a few more minutes. When he heard someone enter the room, he thought it was Draco and so began speaking. "As I was saying, Draco, even Death is complaining. Your mother's cooking—"

"Lucius?"

At the sound of a voice radically different from Draco's, Lucius whipped his head around and met the anxious gaze of his wife. She looked terrible. Her hair, which was usually very well-groomed, was in as much disarray her older sister's on a good day. But while Bellatrix seemed to actually desire that hair-gone-through-a-Dementor-tornado look, Narcissa's hair seemed completely accidental. Her clothing was stained with what seemed to be streaks of where she rubbed her dirty hands on herself as she cooked. 'Really, had she never heard of an apron?' thought Lucius. But the worst was that her firm and steady gaze was now exhausted and worn.

"What were you going to say?"

Lucius choked on his previous words as he frantically searched his mind for a substitute. "I was going to say that your cooking, my dear, is very good for someone who never had to cook before."

"Really?" Her eyes brightened, and Lucius almost felt bad that he'd lied. That is, until he noticed that she held a plate of her newest cookie attempt. "Would you tell me if this batch is alright?"

Lucius schooled his expression solid! 'You've masked your opinions in front of your LORD! You can do this! You can pretend to enjoy a cookie!' With a more steady hand than even he expected, he reached towards the plate, grabbed a cookie, studied it for a moment, and then he bit into it. He used even more concentration not to grimace, or look otherwise displeased with the putrid, vile taste currently crucio-ing his taste buds. As his throat worked to desperately keep the chewed cookie going downward rather than upward, he managed to nod and give a lopsided smile to his wife. "This is better than the last ones," he said. It wasn't a lie. They actually were better that the last batch…but they were still awful!

Narcissa looked as though she were on the verge of tears of joy. She needed to hide those tears, because Lucius did not approve of crying in his presence. She ran back towards the kitchen.

Lucius stared at the remains of the cookie in his hand. He looked at it, then looked at Death…his dog. The dog looked up at him and growled. "I know," Lucius whispered. "Don't you tell anyone what I'm about to do." The dog put its head down and turned its head away from the fire. Lucius quickly tossed the cookie into the flames.

At that moment, he heard some more shuffling heading his way. This time, Lucius did not dare start to say something. A tall glass was thrust into his line of vision, and he heard his son's voice. "I thought you could use some spiked eggnog, Father."

Lucius took the offered glass from his son, looking at him as he did, noticing that Draco was looking rather sick. "Am I to assume you had to endure that last batch, too, Draco?" Draco nodded his head miserably. Lucius looked at the glass of eggnog, then back to his son. He offered the glass to Draco. "Have a small sip…Only to clean that disgusting taste from your mouth. If you have more than the tiniest sip…" But by the time Lucius had gotten to saying that much, Draco had taken a sip and given the glass back to Lucius.

Draco sat down in a second armchair in the room. He shared a look with his father. Lucius conjured a second glass, poured half of the eggnog into the new glass, and then summoned the alcohol back into his own glass. He then floated the non-alcoholic eggnog towards his young son. He raised his glass, and Draco responded by holding his own aloft. "To Saint Potter, who singlehandedly fired our servant from employment, and deliberately cursed us to live a life of starvation with a wife and mother that cannot cook." Then, father and son drank.

Just after this toast and drink came Narcissa with a new plate of cookies, this one different than the kind Lucius had just thrown in the fire. Lucius and Draco both looked at each other in dread, before they plastered huge smiles on their faces as they were coaxed into sampling another toxic cookie.

Narcissa had no idea…

_Hope you all enjoyed it. I had a good time writing it. Thanks for reading! Please review! I would really appreciate it, because they totally make my day! Thanks! _


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